


Sweater Thief

by lenasmagic (dimensionhoppingrose)



Series: Weblena Month 2019 [7]
Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Mourning, Stealing SO's clothes, Webby is a thief we all know it, Weblena Week 2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-12
Updated: 2019-08-12
Packaged: 2020-08-20 04:44:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20222014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dimensionhoppingrose/pseuds/lenasmagic
Summary: Webby's cold. Lena isn't. Logic dictates that Webby gets Lena's sweater. Right?-Weblena Month Day 9: Sweater Weather-





	Sweater Thief

**Author's Note:**

> Idk man I just really love the clothes-stealing trope. And Webby totally steals ALL OF LENA'S sweaters.
> 
> (as usual, not really edited)

“If I catch you in here again…!”

The angry bartender’s voice faded away as the girls ran down the street, giggling. They hadn’t even been trying to drink, they just wanted to listen to the band.

“That was fun!” Webby said with a bounce once they were in the clear. Lena grinned, proud of herself. Magica was complaining about her  _ wasting time _ , but she was just being impatient. Lena needed to make sure everyone trusted her before she tried to get too close. And bringing Webby to a bar probably wouldn’t earn her points with Beakley, they’d had fun, and Webby would go home excited about how much fun she’d had with her new friend — as long as she didn’t mention the bar.

“We should hit up another place some time.” Lena looked up at the sky, grimacing. “Maybe not tonight, though. Tea Time might have my head if I keep you out passed curfew.”

“Yeaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah.” Webby admitted with a long-suffering sigh. She shivered, wrapping her arms around herself.

“Cold?” Lena guessed. The temperature had gone down quite a bit since they’d snuck into the bar.

“A little. Granny told me to take a jacket, but…” Webby shrugged, her voice drifting off.

“Well… here.” Lena slid her sweatshirt off and put it over Webby’s head in one swift movement. Webby squealed, her voice slightly muffled.

“I can’t take your sweater! What’re you gonna wear?”

“I’m not that cold,” Lena said simply. “And what’ll Beakley say if you catch a cold after spending a night out with me? She might ban me from seeing you ever again.”

“She wouldn’t do that.” Webby wiggled into the sweater, looking herself over. Lena hated to admit that she looked cute in the oversized shirt. “Are you  _ sure _ you’re okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Come on, let’s get out of here.”

Lena never did see that particular sweater again. Not that it really mattered when she could conjure up another one, although she was curious about what Webby did with that. It never occurred to her ask, though.

Said sweater had ended up tossed into Webby’s dresser after she’d explained fifty times to Beakley that Lena had given it to her because she was cold. She hadn’t  _ meant _ to keep it, she really hadn’t, but Lena never asked, and Webby simply forgot.

* * *

One week on from the Shadow War, a lot of the physical damage had already been fixed. The wall in the study had been fixed, the money bin was being put back together, and the rest of Duckburg was well on its way to being fully repaired. Soon it would be like nothing had happened.

The emotional damage wasn’t nearly as easy to take care of.

“Webby?”

Beakley hadn’t seen her granddaughter all morning, and she was starting to worry. Webby had been understandably upset and withdrawn since she’d watched Lena die, and no one was going to give her a hard time about it. But for her to not even come down to breakfast? That was worrying.

The library was devoid of Webby’s presence, but Beakley heard a faint sound coming from the loft. “Webby?” she tried again, climbing up the ladder.

And there was Webby, sitting on the floor in front of her dresser, curled in on herself as she cried quietly.

“Webby…” Beakley pulled herself up into the loft and sat with her on the floor. She was clinging to a sweater — a very familiar, striped sweater. “Oh, sweetheart…”

“I never gave it back,” Webby whispered, scrubbing her eyes. “I meant to, but I forgot about it, and she never asked…”

Beakley gently tugged Webby close to hug her, and Webby curled into her grandmother, resting her head in Beakley’s lap as she cried. Beakley brushed her fingers through Webby’s hair, feeling helpless and hating it. Lena had been the only true casualty of this entire thing, and it wasn’t fair. Whatever she had been, she was still a child. She deserved better.

“I miss her,” Webby whispered, clutching the sweater tight.

“I know, Webby. I know. I’m so, so sorry.” Beakley had tried so hard to prepare Webby for whatever obstacles she might face in life. But nothing could prepare someone for facing the death of someone they cared about. Nothing but experience, and the pain that came with it.

And there was nothing she could do to help  _ that _ .

“What do you think I should do with this?” Webby finally asked quietly, holding the sweater out.

“I’m not sure,” Beakley admitted. Keeping it would just be a reminder of what Webby had lost. But getting rid of it would probably be impossible for her. “Do what you think is best.”

Webby nodded, wiping her eyes. “I don’t know if I can get rid of it right now.”

“You can change your mind later if you want,” Beakley assured her, helping her sit up and hugging her tight.

And in the corner, a teenage shadow watched sadly as her best friend suffered, and there was nothing she could do to help.

It was becoming an infuriating theme in Lena’s life.

* * *

“Webby!”

The girl looked up from her book as a rather annoyed Lena popped her head up through the loft door. “I own like ten sweatshirts, how is it I can never  _ find _ any of them?”

“Um…” Webby tilted her head, trying to think. “Maybe you’re just really bad at keeping track of things?”

“Really.” Lena raised an eyebrow. “Is that the excuse you’re going for?”

“Well…”

They stared at each other for a moment before Lena darted up into the loft, running for the closet, and Webby squeaked, diving to block the door. “Hey!” she protested when blue energy encased her and held her back. “That’s cheating!”

“All’s fair in love and war, Pink.” Lena opened the closet and sure enough, there were three of her hoodies, hanging up like they belong there.

“Huh,” Webby said in a poor attempt to act oblivious. “How did those get there?”

“I can’t imagine.” Lena let Webby go and grabbed one of the shirts, slipping it on and zipping it up. Webby blushed, shuffling her feet and smiling. Lena’s eyes darted to the loft door before quickly kissing Webby’s forehead. “I guess the oversized look is good on you. You could  _ ask _ , though.”

“But it’s so much fun to steal them.”

Lena rolled her eyes, but she was smiling as she jumped out of the loft. There’d only been three sweatshirts in the closet. She’d have to scope out Webby’s other hidey-holes later to find the rest.

But there was no harm in letting her keep one or two.


End file.
